Breen--come upstairs."
Jacked obeyed mechanically. Garry had evidently heard of his being
downstairs and had some instructions to give, or some further
confession to make. He would save him now from that humiliation;
he would get his arms around him, as Corinne had done, and tell
him he was still his friend and what he yet intended to do to pull
him through, and that nothing which he had done had wrecked his
affection for him.
As these thoughts rushed over him his pace quickened, mounting the
stairs two steps at a time so that he might save his friend even a
moment of additional suffering. The doctor touched Jack on the
shoulder, made a sign for him to moderate his steps, and the two
moved to where his patient lay.
Garry was on the bed, outside the covering, when they entered. He
was lying on his back, his head and neck flat on a pillow, one
foot resting on the floor. He was in his trousers and shirt; his
coat and waistcoat lay where he had thrown them.
"Garry," began Jack in a low voice--"I just ran in to say that--"
The sick man did not move.
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